Waiting to Exhale
by Berry's Ambitions
Summary: [Post-series one-shot] "The day I left from home, I made a vow that's haunted me ever since..." [Implied Dedede/Escargoon, Escargoon-centric]


**_Waiting to Exhale_**

**_By Berry's Ambitions_**

**A/N: This is an idea I had in mind for some time, and I decided to go ahead and write it after watching _Like Mother, Like Snail_. I just love Escargoon and feel like the episode added more dimension to his character. There's a bit Dedede/Escargoon shipping in here too, because I was unable to help myself. XD Besides, I couldn't see Dedede _not_ being involved in some way or another, considering the importance he has in Escargoon's life.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Kirby._**

* * *

Escargoon has done many strange things in life, but arranging a funeral is a first.

It's for his mother, who passed away two days before the arrival of spring. A visiting friend was the one who found her, and it was this friend who contacted Escargoon after the hospital officially pronounced her deceased. Apparently it had happened in her sleep. A brain aneurysm, they'd called it.

No one questions him when he decides to arrange the funeral. There's no one _to_ question him. Their family is scattered around Pop Star; it will be a miracle if more than a dozen of them even bothering attending, let alone those who remember Escargoon or his mother at all. It isn't as if they had cared enough to keep in touch.

His mother had a small circle of friends, of course, but none know _what_ to think of Escargoon, let alone how to approach him at all.

But Escargoon catches them staring and whispering all the time._ Oh, that poor thing. He loved his mother so much. It's a miracle he's even functioning without her._

He will gladly take his family's negligence than their pity any day.

* * *

The funeral takes place a week later at a meadow, nearby the farm where Escargoon's mother resided. The cloudless sky is neither blue nor gray, as if it can't make its mind.

Escargoon is shivering - whether because of how he's feeling right now or because of the cool temperature, he doesn't know - half-listening to what the pastor is saying when a gloved hand touches his shoulder.

Dedede looks uncomfortable dressed in black, and even more so when offering what Escargoon thinks might be a comforting smile. The king's presence at the funeral is unplanned, but not unwelcome; Escargoon had discovered him in the tank's passenger seat earlier that day, waiting to leave. Both had locked eyes, an unspoken moment of understanding passing between them before Escargoon finally started the engine.

In fact, now is the first time either of them have spoken since then.

"Don't cry," Dedede says, giving his secretary's shoulder a tight squeeze. "Makes your eyes all puffy."

Escargoon stares at the ground, sniffling. He's perfectly aware of how he looks when he cries, but can't bring himself to care at this point. Let everyone see how upset he is. Let everyone see that there's someone who actually _gives_ a damn that his mother is gone forever.

Dedede offers him an awkward hug as the casket is lowered into the ground.

* * *

"Snugglies supposed to help take the pain away."

It's an hour later and the two are sitting on a large rock, blatantly ignoring anyone who passes by. Sympathetic looks at shot in Escargoon's direction. Dedede is not as fortunate, receiving stares that vary from bewildered to downright accusing. Still, the basic message is obvious: _What is** he** doing here?_

"Or so I heard," Dedede shrugged. He's attempting to explain his reasoning behind the embrace. "But lookin' at ya now, Escargoon... I don't think I believe it no more."

Escargoon says nothing. He does not have the strength to inform Dedede that his mother once told him the very same thing, and that yes, it _is_ true. It just depends who's doing the hugging, and Dedede sure as hell isn't Escargoon's mother.

The penguin studies him for a moment, expression softening considerably. "I'm real sorry ya lost her." There's a gentleness to his voice, one that Escargoon would never associate with his ill-mannered employer. "I can tell how much she loved ya."

Their fingers brush, and something about the action prompts Escargoon to find his voice. "I loved her too," he murmurs. "Thank you for your condolences, sire."

Dedede rests his hand atop of his, and for for the first time since losing his mother, the snail thinks he might actually feel something.

* * *

The month that follows is a difficult one.

Escargoon spends the majority of his time at the farm, sorting and cleaning. Some of his mother's belongings - such as photographs, jewelry, and various knick-knacks - are packed away. Escargoon plans to store them somewhere in the castle because he doesn't know what else to do with them (and, okay, he can't bear to part with them). Other things - mostly clothes, furniture, and old blankets - are either donated, sold, or thrown in the garbage.

Throwing away the blankets is the hardest because they still smell like her rosemary perfume oil.

Escargoon clutches one against his chest, feelings of utter despair beginning to assault him. He still remembers when he was a little snail, when he'd have nightmares and cuddle up with his mother until they went away.

_Who will make the nightmares go away now?_

It's this question that breaks his last nerve.

Escargoon collapses onto the hardwood floor, burying his face into the blanket as he begins to weep.

_Mom, _he thinks despairingly, _when I left you all those years ago, I made a promise that's haunted me ever since. _He takes a shuddering breath, clutching the itchy wool material in his hands. _I said I'd make you proud of me._

He's overwhelmed by nostalgia as he recalls the one time his mother came to visit him in Cappy Town; how he'd lied and pretended to be king just to make her happy, only for it to turn out that she already was.

_You said I'll always be king to you, Mom._ Escargoon raises his head, trying and failing to blink away his tears. The room - _her_ room, barren now - seems very small. _Even if I'm not a king to anybody else._

He hugs the blanket against his chest as he begins to rock back and forth.

Before Escargoon finally heads for home during the evening, he folds the very same blanket and carefully places it into the trunk. He doesn't see the harm in keeping this one.

* * *

Dedede enters the room just as Escargoon is starting to unpack.

"'Bout time ya showed up," he says gruffly, crossing his arms.

Escargoon knows this is the closest to a welcoming party that he'll get from his boss. Not at all in the mood to converse with Dedede, he gives a stiff nod before turning his attention back to the open suitcase on his bed.

Oblivious to Escargoon's implications of_ 'get lost'_, the portly bird walks towards him. To Escargoon's chagrin, he actually extracts an object from the suitcase. "What's this?" he asks aloud, squinting. Escargoon looks over at him and goes rigidly immediately.

In Dedede's hand is a picture frame.

"What does it look like?" Escargoon asks coldly, fighting back to urge to snatch it right out of the king's grasp.

Dedede either completely misses the sarcasm in Escargoon's tone or simply doesn't care. With him, one never knew for sure. "This here's your family, ain't it?" he asks, sounding more curious than anything else.

Escargoon moves closer, following Dedede's gaze. He clears his throat. "Yes, your majesty. Me and my parents. As you can see, I was really small at the time, so I don't remember it being taken." His lips quirk upwards into a bitter smile. "I doubt my father - " Not Dad. _Father._ " - remembers either."

Dedede's eyes widen slightly in realization. "He done ditched ya, didn't he?" His features darken as he scowls. "That son of a - "

Escargoon holds up a hand. "What's done is done. Hating him won't bring her back."

Dedede hands him back the photograph. Escargoon sighs, setting it back facedown on the bed and taking a seat. "Mom always tried so hard to prove she didn't need a man in her life to be a good parent, you know? That she could raise me on her own. And when I grew up, I just... I just wanted to return the favour, and take care of her like she took care of me."

Dedede studies the snail for a moment, perplexed, before sitting down next to him. "She was right, then," he comments, nudging Escargoon lightly in the place where his ribs would have been. "'Bout you not needin' a daddy to turn out alright."

Escargoon blinks. For once, he's at loss for words. But when Dedede smiles at him, he can't help smiling back.

His mother may not have needed a man in her life, but - despite everything that was very, _very_ wrong with Dedede - Escargoon can't help feeling grateful for the one he has in his own.

* * *

Exactly two years pass before Escargoon drapes the wool blanket over his bed.

He hopes that, someday, his own child will appreciate it as much as he does.

**~The End~**

* * *

**A/N: I'd be forever grateful if I received some feedback on this! :)**


End file.
